The nobles from various countries who had come to see the engagement ceremony of the Crown Prince of Olstein began to prepare for their return. The Count and Countess of Clavier also planned to visit Sarnica to attend the opening of the assembly.

However, when Philip insisted on returning to Sarnica first, the meticulous Count of Clavier began to question him.

“You were so adamant about staying in Olstein…”

“I’m going to request an audience with the Crown Prince,” Philip replied calmly and honestly. It wasn’t something he felt ashamed to hide, knowing that his father would eventually hear about it.

“I intend to marry Amelia after receiving permission for her asylum.”

The count coughed disapprovingly, while the Countess of Clavier sat quietly, listening to Philip.

“If the royal family of Sarnica guarantees her status, not even the Empire can decide her residence without permission.”

“…Do you think Lord Leonid will just sit by and accept that?”

If Amelia left the Empire, it could pose a threat to Brienne. Her father, Lord Leonid, would likely not be pleased either.

“It might actually work out for the best,” Philip countered.

“The Empire could welcome it.”

“And why is that?” The count’s question showed a hint of curiosity beyond his initial skepticism.

“Amelia’s changed circumstances would give the Empire a reason to renegotiate with Brienne. Since there are still factions within the Empire that disapprove of its current state, they would likely prefer resolving issues through diplomacy rather than war.”

Olstein had declared itself an empire and was currently suppressing other nations through war. Philip explained that this might be an opportunity for the Empire to demonstrate its diplomatic prowess as well, not just its military strength.

“Once I’m in Sarnica, I’ll speak to Lord Leonid, and together we will—”

“So, you’re really going through with this,” his mother, the Countess of Clavier, interrupted softly. She was implying that Philip planned to seek permission from the royal family for marriage without consulting them first.

“I’m sorry to say this, but isn’t the position of the Crown Prince higher than that of the count?” Philip responded.

“…”

“Technically, you and father don’t have grounds to oppose this.”

An awkward silence fell over the room after Philip’s words, but it didn’t last long, and felt surprisingly light.

“You’re right,” the Count of Clavier finally said, nodding.

“Go ahead, then. Create a strong case. If you manage to get the asylum permit properly, I’ll give my consent without any further objections.”

Philip stood, bowed slightly, and left the count’s chambers with a determined expression.

“Were you serious?” the Countess asked, almost chastising her husband, as she watched him stare at the candlestick on the table.

“Well, from the way he looks now, there’s no persuading him. And honestly, it doesn’t seem like such a ridiculous plan,” the count muttered.

He was serious about granting permission. Philip, who usually didn’t assert his own opinions, had come forward with a carefully thought-out plan. As a father, the count couldn’t help but feel a small sense of pride.

“But whether it succeeds or not, that’s the real issue.”

Things often go awry due to unexpected, seemingly minor complications.

The Count and Countess of Clavier sat in quiet reflection, listening to the sounds of carriages from outside the window.

* * *

Amelia headed to the opera hall with a somewhat lighter heart than when she had parted from Philip. Betty had dressed her in a thick robe, remarking that it looked like it would snow today.

Josef had also sent her a new fur scarf, which she decided to wear to avoid getting the scarf Philip gave her wet from the snow.

The scarf came with a brooch, an extravagant piece featuring a large ruby surrounded by small diamonds. When Betty opened the box, she had been rendered speechless by the opulence.

As Amelia fastened the brooch—which looked ridiculously expensive given her current status—she resolved to get used to such things. Living shamelessly in a gifted bedroom, draped in borrowed clothes and accessories—after all, wasn’t that the role of a hostage?

The opera hall, with its two floors, was quite spacious. Most of the attendees, except for Amelia, were seated as couples. By now, Philip had likely taken a carriage to the harbor.

“Lady Amelia.”

As Amelia hesitated, unsure where to sit, a guard in a uniform identical to Henrik’s appeared before her.

“Yes?” she replied.

“Please follow me.”

It seemed that Amelia had a designated seat. The man led her to a spot that was neither at the front, where high-ranking nobles sat, nor at the very back, but rather in a slightly off-center area.

“Please take a seat.”

After sitting where the guard had indicated, he bowed politely and left without addressing the lingering questions in Amelia’s mind. She wondered why she had been assigned such a mediocre seat, neither good nor bad. If she had been placed in a far corner, it would have made more sense.

It seemed the women seated nearby shared her curiosity, as they cast her brief, inquisitive glances.

“You must be Lady Amelia Przhemysl of Brienne?” said the woman seated to her left in a soft voice, introducing herself.

“Yes, it’s a pleasure to meet you…”

“Oh my, is this the lady?”

Before she had time to properly introduce herself, the noblewoman to her left acknowledged Amelia.

“Isn’t Brienne part of the Empire?”

“But I’ve heard that the Imperial guards and attendants address her with higher status.”

The two ladies continued discussing Amelia, who sat between them, debating why she was referred to as such when Brienne had been absorbed into Olstein.

After a while, they concluded that the royal family must have decided to honor Brienne’s titles, and, satisfied with their explanation, they ended the conversation.

Amelia had remained silent with an awkward expression throughout the discussion, only releasing a sigh of relief when the sound of a clavichord signaled the beginning of the play.

* * *

The play’s message was clear enough that even Amelia, who had no prior information, could quickly grasp the context.

It depicted the end of a long-standing civil war on an ancient continent, brought to peace by a hero from the North, clearly meant to glorify Josef’s achievements.

The suffering of people due to the war was particularly emphasized to highlight the magnitude of the protagonist’s accomplishments, and it was well-crafted enough to draw the audience of nobles into its narrative.

Though the play, sponsored by the royal family, was visually splendid and engaging, Amelia found it difficult to focus. It felt more like an attempt to indoctrinate viewers with the greatness of Olstein.

“I have nowhere to return to.”

Midway through the play, a female character stood in front of a backdrop of ruins, the aftermath of war, and spoke with a sorrowful expression. Moonlight streamed through the glass ceiling of the hall, illuminating her face.

“Everything has disappeared because of the war. The simple garden in the backyard, the well, the stable… our home and even our baby.”

Tears flowed down the woman’s face.

“Let’s go to your homeland,” the man standing opposite her said, grasping her hands.

“To my homeland?”

“Yes. The place where it snows in summer, and a southeastern wind blows in winter, where you were born.”

“Where I was born…”

The man pulled her into an embrace with exaggerated movements. Despite the melodrama, Amelia was captivated by the dialogue.

The scene reminded her of her father, who had stayed behind in Brienne after she left for Olstein, trusting only in the love of his family as he faced an uncertain future.

“You always wanted to go back. Now is the time. We have nothing left, but we can start again.”

“But you’ve never even been to my homeland. We can’t survive there.”

“As long as I have you, I don’t care.”

The actors addressed each other simply as “you,” their roles too brief to warrant names.

“Since I met you, I’ve been willing to give up everything. As long as you’re with me, I can go anywhere, anytime. It doesn’t matter if we have nothing. Let’s leave. We’ll sail away and ride donkeys, and create our own paradise.”

“Claire.”

A memory Amelia didn’t want to recall—one long buried in her heart—suddenly resurfaced.

She lowered her head slightly, hoping no one beside her would notice.

“Claire. My Claire.”

The male actor’s lines echoed eerily, overlapping with the voice of her father, whom she had once glimpsed collapsing in his dark study, sobbing alone.

When she was very young, she had accidentally overheard him through a crack in the door, his lonely weeping spilling out into the silence.

“Why did you leave first? I can’t… I can’t do this alone.”

The memory, like original sin, rose from the depths and grew, pressing painfully on Amelia’s heart. It was a suffocating weight, as though it was trying to wring tears from her.

Feeling overwhelmed, Amelia closed her eyes slowly.

“I can’t love Amelia alone.”

Tears began to fall onto her hands resting on her lap.

“She’s my daughter… our daughter…”

Her emotions surged, like water threatening to spill from an overfilled glass. She dared not move, afraid that any slight motion would unleash a torrent of sobs.

“I can’t love her…”

The actors’ voices became distant, and the music faded. Only the tears flowing from her deep well of guilt remained, wetting her cheeks. Amelia kept her eyes shut, staring into the dark void, praying for the wave of sadness to ebb away like the receding tide.

* * *

Observing Amelia from the VIP box on the second floor was more enjoyable than he had anticipated.

Josef’s guards had seated Amelia in the most visible spot, just as he had instructed. In his mind, Josef replayed the image of her draped in the clothes he had sent her.

But enjoyment didn’t mean complete satisfaction. Throughout the performance, Josef had to endure a heavy sense of discomfort. His desire to possess Amelia often seemed to erode his judgment, a strange feeling for a crown prince who believed his life was already complete.

As he had predicted, snow began to fall from the ash-gray sky.

Josef’s steps instinctively led him toward the Crown Princess’s residence. Amid the dispersing nobles, Amelia disappeared like water parting a crowd, slipping away without even fluttering her robe.

He recalled how she had kept her head down during the latter half of the play. He had expected her to be more lively, especially while watching the snow. He wanted to see that side of her.

As he expected, Amelia had not yet reached the road leading to her residence. She was standing by the wall, seemingly unaware of his approach until she turned at the sound of footsteps on the snow.

“…”

Her nose was slightly red, and her eyes were swollen, suggesting it wasn’t just from the cold. What he thought were stars sparkling in her eyes were actually the remnants of unshed tears.

“I greet Your Highness,” she said, her voice hoarse and wet. Amelia straightened her posture and bowed slightly.

Josef studied her tear-streaked face. Before speaking, he paused to consider why he felt so angry.

He had thought she would enjoy seeing the snow. Yet, she hadn’t. Amelia’s unexpected reactions always irritated and unsettled him.

She was receiving more than adequate treatment, lacking nothing. She probably didn’t even realize that the brooch gleaming brightly on her chest was worth more than the cost of hosting tonight’s play.

Even when her father was taken hostage, when her luggage was torn apart, or when she almost froze to death after falling down a mountain, Amelia hadn’t shed a tear. But now, her behavior was displeasing to Josef.

“You’ve ruined the tonight,” Josef said, demanding to know why she was standing there, openly crying for all to see.

“What’s the problem?”

“…”

“Tell me. Is this some act of a hostage who can’t bear the crown prince’s tyranny? Or are you trying to gain sympathy from the nobles by showing them your tears?”

Amelia, who had stood silently listening to Josef, wiped the tears that had lingered at the corner of her swollen eyes.

“I’m sorry,” she said, her voice now somewhat composed.

“I missed Brienne.”

The snow of Olstein wasn’t enough to comfort her. But to Josef, it seemed like a trivial reason. He scoffed, unable to understand a longing that couldn’t be soothed by clothes, jewels, or a play.

“Well then, why don’t you just go beg the ministers to send you back to Brienne? Tell them how inadequate I’ve been as governor. That would be quicker, wouldn’t it?”

“…”

“Just make sure I don’t catch you doing it.”

Josef stared directly into Amelia’s eyes as he spoke.

“The only reason you’re still alive is because of my goodwill.”

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